


They're Good Dogs, Stan

by OrangeOctopi7



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Gen, I don't think it's that graphic but a deer does get eaten, It's werewolves of course there's gonna be a little blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeOctopi7/pseuds/OrangeOctopi7
Summary: Forduary Week 2 is Fluff and Angsty, but this is ALL FLUFF! I’ve seen tons and tons of Gravity Falls AUs with Werewolf!Stan, but none with Ford as a werewolf. So I wanted to write one. I could’ve gone for Paranoid, pre-portal incident Ford and all the good angst that’d come with that, but I’m already a week behind, so pure fluff it is!
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	They're Good Dogs, Stan

Mid-September, 2013. Another summer has come and gone, the kids are back home in Piedmont, and the elder Pines twins are preparing for their next voyage. After a busy day of gathering supplies, Stan is ready to take the afternoon off. But Ford wouldn’t be Ford if he didn’t jump at every opportunity to study something strange. He’d gone off on his own, mentioning something about checking on a werewolf theory for Soos. Stan, after confirming that it was still a couple of days until the full moon, decided to stay home and catch a nap on the porch, enjoying the first cool evening in months.

It was now an hour later, and while the sun still hadn’t set, Stan was starting to get a little worried. If the supposed werewolf really wasn’t any trouble, surely his brother would’ve been back by now. Ford may have the tendency to get caught up in his work, but he wasn’t exactly the type to let a conversation or interview drag on and on.

In an effort to distract himself from worrying, Stan decided to help Soos wrap up the last tour of the day. He’d just seen the last bus off when he noticed a large, hump-backed animal moving through the forest. 

"What is that, a moose?" He squinted through the trees, trying to get a better look at it to see if it was something dangerous. It definitely went on four legs, so not a Manotaur. The only other thing that big around here that went on four legs was that Bear-bear friend of Dipper's, and he was a dark brown color. Whatever this was, its fur glinted silvery grey in the late afternoon sun.

Whatever it was, it was moving fast, and making its way towards the clearing that housed the Mystery Shack. In just a few seconds, Stan thought he could make out what it was, but his cataracts had to be playing tricks on him.

It wasn’t a moose. It was a wolf the  _ size  _ of a moose.

The closer it got, the more weird details he noticed about it. He’d never heard of a wolf with curly fur, and was it wagging its tail?

Where the heck was Ford? He’d love to see this. This was probably some giant’s pet woofdle (Half wolf half poodle).

_ Wait... _

Stan looked up at the almost full moon hanging just above the trees as the sun began to set.

He looked back at the running wolf just in time to see it burst out of the trees and tackle him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

The wolf licked his face enthusiastically as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Ford, you didn’t!”

The fact that the wolf looked guilty was all the answer he needed.

  
  
  


* * *

When Soos shared his theory that the mailman was a werewolf with Ford, the old researcher had jumped at the opportunity. Here was a man who, from the looks of it, would have been a child when Ford first came to Gravity Falls. 

This meant one of two things: One, there had been child werewolves in Gravity Falls when he first started his research here, and he somehow completely missed it; or Two, this man had been turned to a werewolf in the last 30 years, which meant there had been an increase in werewolf activity while Ford was on the other side of the portal. Either way, Ford was very excited to ask him some questions.

He’d dashed off from the Mystery Shack, barely stopping to let Stanley know where he was going and confirming that the full moon wasn’t for a few more days. 

Once he arrived at the mail-man’s house, Ford knocked enthusiastically. The seconds slowly ticked by as he waited, but no answer came. After counting to 100, Ford knocked again, a little more insistently. He heard  _ something  _ moving behind the door. He started pounding on the door, and didn’t let up.

Finally, he heard several bolts being undone. 

“Hey, you need to leave in the next…” The stout red-haired man flipped open his phone and checked an app, “Two minutes.”

“Oh.” Ford answered with mild surprise. “Well, I’ll cut straight to the chase then! I wanted to know if there was any truth to the rumors that you might be a werewolf!”

The man gave Ford a confused look before answering. “Stick around for another minute and a half and you’ll find out.”

“Really!? But it won’t be a full moon for another three days! And sunset won’t be for another hour and a half!”

“No, but the moon’s rising in about a minute. Seriously, you need to leave.”

Ford’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Would you be willing to let me observe your transformation? It would be an unprecedented scientific opportunity!”

“Nope, too dangerous.”

With that, the man slammed the door in Ford’s face. He heard several bolts and locks being re-done. For a brief moment, Ford was reminded of a less pleasant time in his own life, when he himself had locked himself in his own house like that, both for his own protection and for the protection of the world outside.

The old researcher shook the thought out of his head. This was nothing like that.

Honestly, he just wanted to  _ observe _ . It wasn’t like he was looking for trouble. He had survived for years in the multiverse, he could just peek through the window of a werewolf!

Luckily there were plenty of windows on the second floor that had the blinds and curtains wide open, presumably to let in plenty of sunlight. Or perhaps to let in plenty of moonlight? That was one of many theories he’d have to ask the man about once the moon had set again. Whatever the case, these windows would be perfect points of observation.

Ford climbed a nearby tree to get a better look into the werewolf’s home. He couldn’t see the transformation from here, but he could see what appeared to be the entire hind leg of an elk hanging by a couple of ropes in one room. Interesting… obviously this man prepared food for his wolf form, presumably to prevent any chance of the werewolf hunting local townsfolk or livestock, but why hang it in such a position? It wasn’t so high that the werewolf couldn’t reach it, but it would obviously take more work.

Well, he wasn’t going to see the transformation for himself from this window. The old researcher readied himself to jump to the tiny balcony in front of the next nearest window. Hopefully he’d find what he was looking for there. 

The old man took a leap-- misjudged the springiness of the branch beneath his feet-- and crashed through the window.

Ford picked himself up off the floor with a groan. That window should  _ not  _ have broken so easily. Surely, the home of a werewolf should be better fortified! He would have to block the window with something if he didn’t want a werewolf loose on the town. He was looking for a bookshelf or cabinet he could push in front of the opening, when he heard a low snuffling sound, followed by an angry growl.

A reddish-brown wolf, twice the size of any Ford had ever seen, with an abnormally large cranium, was standing at the top of the stairs, glaring daggers at him. Ford was torn between reaching for his blaster to protect himself, or reaching for the new journal Mabel had made for him to start writing down observations.

_ Drat, I missed the transformation. _ He thought to himself.  _ So it must be a rapid process. I wonder if that makes it more or less painful? _

The wolf growled again, hackles raised, and Ford finally pulled out his blaster, being sure to set it to stun. After all, it wasn’t the wolf’s fault he’d stumbled into the wolf’s territory.

Unfortunately, pulling a gun, even a sci-fi looking one, was the wrong move. The wolf lunged at him before he could pull the trigger, fangs sinking into his forearm. Ford yelled with pain, punching and kicking the beast to get it to let go.

The pain of the bite was soon replaced with a strange twitching, rippling, itching sensation, that quickly radiated outward from the wound. He looked down and noticed the hair on his arm growing thicker.

_ Well, it looks like I’ll get to observe the transformation after all!  _ He thought as he fell to his knees.

  
  
  


* * *

Stan was absolutely flabbergasted by the moose-sized wolf currently pawing at his fridge. It barely fit in the room, and he was pretty sure that wagging tail was going to knock the table over.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re hungry.” Stan muscled his way past the mountain of fur and pulled out an entire container of bologna that hadn’t even been opened yet. “Here.” he peeled the seal off the package and tossed a slice like a little frisbee. Wolf!Ford snapped it up in one bite. He looked expectantly at Stan and gave a pathetic little whine, hoping for another.

“Uh, I dunno if you should even be eatin’ this stuff when you’re like that.” Stan protested. “Pretty sure wolves aren’t supposed to eat people food.”

The wolf gave a little huff, but nodded in agreement. And wasn’t that wild, seeing a curly-haired wolf just make a human gesture like that?

The wolf headed back to the back porch door. He pawed the doorknob, like it was instinctual, but gave a little annoyed grunt when he apparently remembered he didn’t have thumbs. Next he tried to grasp the doorknob between his jaws.

“Oh no you don’t!” Stan shouted. “I don’t want teeth-marks all over my doorknobs! Or wolf drool, for that matter!”

Wolf!Ford shot him another guilty look and whined plaintively. Stan sighed and opened the door for him.

“I just let you in, what the heck do you want out again for?”

The wolf made a series of grunts and groans that were probably supposed to mean something, but Stan didn’t get any of what he was trying to say.

“Whatever, just don’t go too far.”

The wolf actually rolled its eyes. Stan didn’t even think wolves could do that. Of course, this was a werewolf, so maybe it could do things a normal wolf couldn’t. It dashed away into the forest.

“Hey! I said don’t go too far!” Stan shouted after him. The wolf was already out of sight. The old con man groaned. “Alright, fine, just be careful!” Stan yelled even louder, hoping his transformed brother could still hear him. 

  
  
  


* * *

Ford was hungrier than he’d been since coming back to his home dimension, and while the slice of bologna had been tasty, it had been far from filling. Besides, Stan was right. Wolves probably shouldn’t eat processed meats. He was going to have to go hunting!

He took in a deep breath, enjoying all the diverse smells that had opened up to him with his transformation, trying to differentiate the smell of wild game from the smell of Farmer Sprott’s farm animals. 

_ It’s probably a good thing Mabel took Waddles home with her before this happened _ . Ford thought. 

He was able to pick out the scent of what he thought might be a mule deer. He snuck through the forest, finding that he could be surprisingly quiet for something so large. He got close enough to the mule deer that he could see the tiny twitching movements of its nose sniffing the air when it finally noticed him. When it finally caught his scent, it bounded away in an instant, and Ford gave chase.

As exhilarating as the case felt, there was also a sense of  _ wrongness  _ to it. He knew instinctively that he shouldn’t,  _ couldn’t  _ hunt on his own, and he found himself wishing desperately that Stanley was with him, even if he knew on some level that his brother wouldn’t want to hunt a deer and probably wouldn’t be much help even if he did.

The wind changed direction and a new scent, strange yet familiar, caught his attention. It was the synthetic, sterile smell of a human mixed with the pungent, musky smell of a wolf, not unlike his own. And he’d smelled it earlier, right after his transformation.

It was the mailman!

Another werewolf, stockier and more reddish brown than silver gray, was running through the forest, scaring the mule deer back in Ford’s direction with a loud howl. Now he wasn’t alone. Now the hunt felt right.

The deer zig-zagged between the two of them before the mailman finally came close enough to latch his jaws into its hind flank. It tried to kick the wolf off, but it had slowed enough that Ford was able to catch up himself, and then instinct completely took over. Before he knew it, the deer was dead on the ground, and the two werewolves were covered in blood, happily sharing the meal they’d taken down together. The one doe wasn’t enough to feed two enormous werewolves, but it definitely put more of a dent in Ford’s hunger than the slice of bologna had.

As they finished off the last of the deer carcase, the other wolf looked at Ford, and although no words were exchanged, a form of communication passed between them.

_ “You’re the idiot researcher who broke into my house.” _ The mailman didn’t seem angry, just bemused more than anything.

_ “It was an accident.” _ Ford’s tail and ears drooped.

_ “I told you to leave.” _ The mailman’s ears flattened and he gave a small annoyed growl.  _ “But it is nice to go hunting with someone. I usually just hang up an elk flank for my own enrichment, so the local farmers and hunters don’t throw a tizzy, but this was much more fun!” _

_ “I agree!” _ Ford wagged his tail, and his ears perked up again.  _ “I’m still hungry, let’s find another deer!” _

The two wolves continued to hunt together for another hour or so, taking down one more deer and finding a large nest of ground squirrels that finally filled them up. Eventually, dusk passed into full night, and the time that deer were the most active had passed.

_ “Well, we’d better do our best to cover our tracks and clean up after ourselves.” _ The mailman stretched and began burying the remains of the ground squirrels.  _ “The local farmers and hunters will throw a tizzy fit if they realize there are a couple of wolves in town.” _

_ “Is that why you usually lock yourself in your house?” _ Ford asked.

The other wolf nodded, and Ford was reminded that this was a man most of the time. _ “I’ve been chased by an angry mob a couple of times. Even shot at with silver bullets.” _

_ “Really? Is there any truth to those old legends?” _

_ “Well any bullet will kill you if it gets you in the heart or the brain.”  _ the mailman replied with a growl.  _ “Silver bullets will force you to transform back to normal, so as long as it’s not a serious injury, you’ll just heal while your body rearranges itself. I got shot in the hind leg, so the bullet just fell out as I transformed.” _

_ “Faciniating! What is it about silver that causes the change? Is it just contact with silver in general, or does it have to be a bullet?” _

Ford hadn’t realized that wolves could give blank stares like that. _ “No clue. I’m not rich enough to have access to pure silver.” _

_ “Oh, it’s actually quite easy to precipitate out of Silver Nitrate, which you can purchase through most industrial chemical catalogs!” _

  
  
  


* * *

It was getting late, and Stan was getting tired, but he was not going to bed until he knew Ford was safe. His brother had run off almost an hour and a half ago, and Stan had seen enough monster movies to worry what would happen to his brother if he ran into anyone else.

Unfortunately, following the wolf through the woods in the dark seemed more likely to get Stan into trouble than to get Ford out of it, so he decided to just keep vigil on the porch for now. He’d heard a few howls in the night, but nothing that sounded like a wolf in danger. He was just going to have to trust that his brother could take care of himself.

It was nearly midnight when Ford finally trotted out of the forest and into the light of the Mystery Shack’s back porch, dragging a mostly picked-clean deer carcase behind him.

“What the heck did you bring that back with you for!?” Stan exclaimed in disgust, looking at the trail of sineu, bones, and skin that now led up to the porch.

Ford looked expectantly between Stan and the carcase, nudging a bit of ribs that still had some meat on them closer to his brother.

“What are you thinkin’!? I’m not eatin’ that!”

The wolf actually did a double-take, as if he was just now remembering that his brother was a human who ate cooked meat that had already been butchered and prepared and sold in a supermarket, not the raw, still bloody remains of a deer that had been alive just three hours ago.

“I hope you realize, I’m not letting you in the house while you’re filthy like that.” Stan gestured to the dark brown dried blood that was flaking off Ford’s curly gray fur. 

The wolf looked thoroughly shamed, and began licking the blood from his paws and muzzle, but there was a lot he couldn’t reach on his own. Stan rolled his eyes and grabbed the hose. It was way too late for this.

Ford gave a surprised yelp when Stan turned the hose on him, and he looked absolutely pathetic as he sat there and took it, the water making him look much skinnier and bedraggled. He whined pitifully as Stan placed his thumb over the end to increase the water pressure, and did his best to power-spray the remaining blood and dirt out of his brother’s fur. When he was finally satisfied that no deer guts would be tracked inside, he nodded with approval and turned the hose of.

The wolf’s tail hung low as he climbed up to the porch.

“Serves you right! You had me worried sick!” Stan reprimanded him. “And I should’ve been in bed two hours ago!”

The wolf gave another sad whine and tried to lick Stan’s face. He pushed his brother off, but also gave him an affectionate scritch behind his ear.

“Yeah yeah, it’s hard to stay mad at you when you’re a big fluffy dog.” He opened the door and let Ford back inside.

As soon as Stan closed the door behind him, Ford gave a tremendous shake, sending water flying everywhere, and absolutely soaking everything in the entryway, including Stan. 

“Oh, I see how it is! You were just faking bein’ pathetic to take your revenge, huh?” 

Ford wagged his tail and huffed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Stan stomped up the stairs to take a shower, while Ford picked his way towards the laundry room. The wolf pulled a towel onto the floor and rolled around on it to finish drying himself off. He would help clean up the entryway, but he didn’t have any opposable thumbs, so there wasn’t much he could do.

  
  
  


* * *

Stan went to bed immediately after getting out of the shower. It had been an exhausting day. He’d deal with Ford’s stupid werewolf escapades in the morning. Hopefully, his brother would be back to normal by then.

He’d just been about to drift off to sleep when he felt something huge and hairy flop down on the mattress next to him. Apparently, werewolf!Ford didn’t want to sleep alone, and honestly, Stan was too tired to try and shove him off, so he just snuggled into the great mound of fur and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, a loud cracking sound, like someone popping all their joints at once, woke Stan with a start. It was still dark out, although the first few rays of light were appearing on the horizon. Stan realized he was suddenly colder too, as though someone had pulled a blanket off him. He suddenly realized that the giant furry mass that had been sleeping next to him all night had been replaced by plain old human skin and bones.

“Ford?” Stan asked, squinting in the twilight to try and see if his brother had indeed returned to normal.

“Ugh… ow… It’s like having all your joints dislocated and then relocated at once… Ah, so I’m fully capable of human speech again!” The old researcher stretched and felt himself over. “Oh dear… I seem to have left my clothes back where I first transformed!” He pulled Stan’s blanket over himself.

“S’not like I can see you anyway.” Stan yanked his blanket back. It was cold this morning, especially now that the living space heater werewolf form was gone! “Go back to your own room and grab your PJ’s.”

The bed creaked as Ford climbed out of it, and Stan saw the blurry silhouette of his brother pause in the doorway.

“Stanley, I… I’m sorry.”

“Didja get hurt?” Stan asked sleepily.

“No. In fact, it was an incredible experience!”

“Then I ain’t even mad. Just lemme go back to sleep, ok?”

“It’s just… I know I worried you. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Great. Apology accepted. Go to bed.”

  
  
  


* * *

After the craziness of last night, Stan didn’t wake until almost 10:30 the next morning. He stumbled into breakfast the next morning to find the kitchen table absolutely covered in Ford’s notes, and his brother in the middle of recounting his experience to Soos.

“... And I’m not sure if it was some sort of telepathy that all werewolves share, or if my inner human consciousness was just translating the wolves body language and pheromone communication, but we were able to communicate perfectly, even about complex concepts like chemistry and legends and angry mobs!”

“Oh, hey Stan!” Soos greeted him cheerfully. “Turns out I was totally right about that mailman bein’ a werewolf!”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Stan rolled his eyes and grabbed a packet of oatmeal.

“I promise, I only went there to observe!” Ford assured him, “I had no intention of turning into a werewolf myself. But now that it’s happened, I’ll actually be able to observe and study werewolves first-hand! Which is perfect, because there’s still so much we don’t know! Obviously, it doesn’t have to be a completely full moon to trigger the transformation, so how full does it have to be? How is the transformation transmitted from one person to the next?”

“How are you gonna take notes while you’re a wolf?” Stan pointed out.

Ford opened his mouth to answer, but quickly realized he didn’t have one.

“Oh, dude we should get you one of those sound boards like that one dog on the internet has!” Soos suggested. He pulled out his phone and showed them a video illustrating his point.

“Hmm, I’m sure I could ask Fiddleford to rig up something like this, but a full keyboard!” Ford nodded as he watched the video. “I’m still myself as the wolf, so I should be able to spell out what I want to say. We could even connect it to a computer, so I can type!

“If you’re still yourself, then why the heck did you try and bring me back a deer last night?” Stan asked grumpily.

“Ah…” Ford blushed. “Well, I still retain my typical level of intelligence, it just seems there’s quite a lot of wolf instinct that gets superimposed on top of that.”

“Great.” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, I get that you’re excited to learn more about how werewolves work and all that, but what about after that? Are you just gonna stay a werewolf forever, or is there a cure?”

“Well, last night, the mailman mentioned that getting shot with a silver bullet in the leg will change you back without doing any lasting harm.”

“Yeah, I’m not shooting you every time your transformation is inconvenient.”

“But he wasn’t sure if just any contact with pure silver would do the trick. That’s just one of many things I’ll have to research in the future!”

Stan swallowed a mouthful of oatmeal. “We’d better call the kids. I can’t wait to see the look on Mabel’s face when she finds out you transform into a giant silver poodle under the full moon!”


End file.
